Pirate and Princess
by tsukibeam
Summary: 10. In which Ashe discovers true treasure in the form of a returned ring and friends during her coronation festivities. A collection of related, non-chronological Ashe and Balthier one shots, also featuring Penelo/Larsa.
1. Chapter 1

Note: I have a ton of free time at my desk. This is the result.

1\. In which Ashe is caught staring...

They found the map in an urn half buried by sand, left by one sky pirate for another in aid of their quests. It was a surprising show of camaraderie that Ashe hadn't expected from the sky pirates but then, there were many things in this quest that had left her surprised.

Her eyes drifted to Basch, still newly shaven and malnourished and wondered at how quickly things changed. No longer her enemy, but a trusted ally once again.

And the mere fact that she was travelling with two sky pirates…

Fate surely liked to jest with her.

But...they were, all of them-Vaan, Penelo, Fran, and Balthier-good fighters, with the makings of becoming her most loyal allies and friends. She felt lighter with them, as if the weight of her country wasn't heaped upon her shoulders. The night before had been the first time she slept heavily through the night in years, comforted as she was by Vossler and Basch's presence.

Now, if only Balthier would allow her a glance at the God's forsaken map…

They had been wandering the maze of the Yensa Sea for two days now, seemingly trapped, going in circles the same way they had the day before. The map had been a blessing and a means of continuing on their way to Raithwall's tomb. Perhaps she could be comforted that her ancestor's tomb proved difficult to find, yet it did not help her cause to be wandering endlessly, nor did it ease her to not know where she was going.

Balthier had taken the lead, letting no one but him and Fran reference the map, claiming that it was, "sky pirate business." Vaan had almost made a convincing argument to allow him a glance as an apprentice sky pirate, winning Fran over, but Balthier would not be swayed.

It clearly had markings of other sky pirate conquests, other stolen treasures, that Balthier refused to let the others see.

Ashe was half convinced that the map would conveniently 'disappear' after this quest was over, perhaps so that the sky pirates may seek other treasure.

She narrowed her eyes at the heavy and yellowing parchment, tucked neatly in Balthier's back pocket. He was mere feet away, out of arm's reach, practically taunting her with the swagger of his hips. She grew to hate his leather pants for how tight they were; the map would surely not have an opportunity to fall out and into her grasp.

Unbidden, her eyes traveled slightly south and stayed, her lips pursing. It was truly unfair for such a perfect bottom to belong to someone as arrogant and stubborn as Balthier. Or perhaps it was entirely appropriate.

"Enjoying the view, Princess?"

Her head jerked up, her face blazing red as she took in Balthier's amused expression as he watched her watch him. Everyone else, by some blessing, was busy elsewhere but it still felt like the whole world watched Ashe in her embarrassment.

Balthier's brow was quirked up and he smirked, waiting for her answer.

It was with heroic effort that she pushed aside her embarrassment and said in as steady a voice she could muster, "just taking note of the _ass_ that holds the map to _my_ ancestor's treasure hostage. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it if this secrecy continued."

Balthier nodded, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he regarded her. "Would you lament the loss of something so perfect?"

Insufferable bastard.

"On the contrary. I would rejoice for I'd finally have the map."

"You wound me, Princess," Balthier clasped his slender though no doubt strong hands over his heart as if to demonstrate that very point.

"I will, if you continue to refuse to allow me look at the map."

"Either way, I'd be depriving you of this fantastic view and that's something I couldn't bear. So enjoy it while you can, Princess."

He walked away, seeming to take his time and exaggerate his swagger. She rolled her eyes and glared, unwilling to admit that she _would_ lament the loss of this view. At least out loud.

That night, a sleeping spell was mysterious cast on Balthier and Fran. When the two were finally awoken by a confused Penelo hours after they were to have set out again, Balthier discovered all of the marked treasure points-with the exception of Raithwall's Tomb-had been burned off, leaving the map a fragile scrap filled with holes.

Balthier never hid a map from Ashe again.


	2. In Which the Palace AC Breaks

In which the palace air conditioner breaks down. Because of course A/C exists in Ivalice.

* * *

Ashe laid sprawled across her bed, limbs spread haphazardly about in a futile attempt to find any cool areas amongst the sheets. It was simple logic: anywhere her body had not touched would not be heated. Her body was overheated, sweat pooling in a rather unattractive manner, and if she could avoid touching any other heated surface, she wouldn't feel so much like a melted candle.

It was a fine time for the palace air conditioning to break, she thought wearily and with annoyance. Of course the Rozzarian ambassador would be visiting, and of course she had to entertain him through a five course meal. They had moved the dinner to an outside terrace where there was at least a breeze, though it hardly helped. And in the end, she still had to retire to her stifling chambers. The now dying breeze was still woefully unhelpful, doing nothing except blow more hot air in. Her gown still lay in a wrinkled puddle at her chamber entrance from her desperate attempt to strip and get cool.

This was the problem with ruling a country that happened to be situated in the middle of a desert, she realized.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the Paramina Rift and its snow capped peaks and never ending wind that seemed to rip right through her, freezing her very core.

There was a thump on the balcony, and a click as the door was opened. Ashe opened her eyes and watched a dark figure step into the large room. A figure that stopped short as he beheld her wearing nothing but her undergarments, glistening with sweat, sprawled amongst rumpled bed sheets. He looked back at her large chamber door, as if he expected to find something else, and caught sight of her cream color gown carelessly discarded. Surprise turned pleased and a smirk spread over his face.

"Well, isn't this a sight," Balthier said with no small amount of smugness in his voice. "Couldn't wait? The thought of my visit filled your mind with ravenous thoughts of our reunion? Well...if you're so determined than I shan't waste anymore time."

Ashe rolled her eyes and said nothing. Balthier approached the bed but stopped short when the reality of the situation hit him. He rolled his shoulders, as if a sudden and unknown discomfort embraced him.

"Turned your room into a sauna, Majesty?" There was a certain level of distaste in his cultured voice. She had only ever heard it when he spoke of prisons or spoiled luxuries. It was as if he were personally offended by her plight.

Ashe had no patience for him. "The palace air conditioner broke."

Balthier paused, blinking as his hand stopped unbuttoning the cufflinks on his well tailored shirt. "The whole palace?" He sounded vaguely annoyed.

"The whole palace." Ashe did her best to pour all of her misery into those three words.

Balthier smirked as he finished with his cufflinks, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He perched at the end of the bed, Ashe's leg rolling toward the dip he created with his weight. She she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She repositioned her leg.

"You've grown spoiled, Majesty," he said through his smirk. "Raised in a cool desert palace, unable to handle the slightest of heat without assistance. It's fortunate that I am here."

"Shut up," she said, throwing an arm over her eyes to block his handsome face which was also starting to glisten with sweat and humor. "I'm trying to imagine the Paramina Rift."

"How ghastly," Balthier frowned, leaning back slightly. "Why on Ivalice would you want to go there with its undead and biting winds?"

"A biting wind is just what I need." There was a pause and Ashe lowered her arm to peak at Balthier, now sporting a different sort of gleam in his eyes. "Don't you dare start with the innuendos."

But it was too late. She could feel the change in the room, the reason why he had come-at her invitation-into her room in the first place. His eyes looked over her anew. She probably looked ridiculous; spoiled, with sweat covering every part of her body, and a flush that seemed unending.

And he...Balthier looked perfect, even the sheen across his forehead, even the rolls of his sleeves. And his eyes...as always, she felt a fluttering of warmth as she watch him devour her with his eyes.

Balthier's smirk was back and he pulled her legs together so that he could crawl over her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her head, trapping her under him. "If I recall, _Princess_ , you spent our entire journey through the Paramina Rift cursing and begging for warmth." He paused as he glanced over her body again, causing her breath to catch. "Did you know, I almost granted that request?"

She felt the need for him spread throughout her like wildfire as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, but at the last second, she pushed him away when the feeling suddenly soured.

He blinked, his eyebrows shooting up. "Problem?"

"It's too hot for this," she said, though it pained her to say.

Balthier's eyes narrowed and he looked deeply suspicious. "The nomads seem to have no problem."

" _I_ am not a nomad," Ashe glared, silently daring him to call her spoiled again. She crawled out from under him and sat at the edge of the bed, cradling her head in her hands as the room began to spill slightly. Her heart pounded, and her stomach churned unpleasantly.

After watching her for a moment, Balthier sat up and she glanced at him. The desire in his eyes dimming somewhat as concern filled them. "And where is the mechanic? Or is there a team, being a palace?"

"A team; they can't figure it out, they've been working for hours."

Balthier climbed out of the bed as soon as the words left her mouth, digging around in his pocket for a small and silver communicator. "Fran?"

There was some crackling but soon enough the Viera answered. Balthier wasted no time. "Bring the tool box to the palace, won't you? It seems there's a problem with the cooling systems ."

"Shall I use stealth," asked Fran's cool voice.

Balthier looked at Ashe with one raised brow. The queen shook her head. She had ceased caring who saw the two pirates at the palace; they were, after all, the saviors of the city. She did, however, care about anyone learning the _reason_ as to why only one would make regular appearances.

"No," Balthier answered Fran. "Come the civilized way."

He slipped the communicator back into his pocket and stood, suddenly business like as he unbuttoned his embroidered vest and threw it on the floor next to her gown. He came around to the other side of the large bed, and gently took her hands in his and guided her back onto the bed.

"Take deep breaths, Ashe." His fingers brushed aside a wisp of hair, and came down to her cheek in a whisper of a caress. She smiled at the use of her name and took his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips.

After a moment, Balthier stepped back. He looked irresistibly nonchalant as he braced his hands on his hips. "Where-"

"West wing basement," Ashe said, breathless and desperate. The sight of him like this, relaxed and tender, pulled at something within her heart that the heat hadn't touched. "And don't you dare steal anything along the way."

Balthier winked at her, sky pirate charm radiating off of him with ease. "Wouldn't dream of it, Majesty."

He slipped out of the room, all swagger and determination. She watched the heavy door close with a click and slowly smiled at the thought of Balthier stalking down the palace corridors in nothing but a shirt and trousers to fix a problem in her home. No sky pirate ego or image to hide behind, just a man with a desire to make a woman happy and healthy.

How quaint. How...domestic.

Ashe decided, the moment cool air began blowing through the vents above her bed a mere thirty minutes later, that she could get used to the domestic side of Balthier. It was further cemented when the man himself slipped back into her room-through the main door and not the balcony-with a large glass of ice water and his casual grace left her breathless once again.


	3. Embarking Toward the Future

In which Balthier, having faced his past, decides to embark toward his future.

* * *

Balthier drained his ale, though he was loath to do so for that meant ordering a new one. It wasn't a quality ale; it burned the back of his throat in an unpleasant way that did _not_ get better with each swig. But it was, at the very least, strong-that is to say, effective.

He and Fran sat in the corner of a tavern that was bustling with questionable activity. The tavern itself was situated in a popular outpost for travelers, though it was slightly off the main path of respectable travelers. Dangerous marks were posted near the entrance, while other, more menacing men, dealt their trade in the shadowed tavern. Amongst them all, it was an ideal place to hide, or brood as Balthier currently was.

"Don't look at me like that, Fran," Balthier said in a gruff voice, avoiding the Viera's scowl piercing him. His fingers traced the pewter rim of his empty tankard. "You know what you were getting into when you agreed to accompany me tonight."

"You were careless," Fran said calmly, gently, reminding him of why he was currently drowning himself with ale. "And now an innocent man is in prison."

Balthier winced but shrugged, feigning indifference. "At least he still has his life."

He stared at his tankard-was he on his third or fourth? Did it matter? He looked up, catching the barkeep's eye as he raised the tankard in a silent request.

Fran frowned deeply but sat back and crossed her slender arms. "You were careless because you were distracted."

Balthier scoffed. "Distracted? Far from it." The barkeep came by with his ale and the sky pirate dug into his pocket for a coin, which he wordlessly flipped in the direction of the barkeep, who in turn caught it with practiced ease.

"Distracted because Her Majesty left a message on your transmitter, which you have listened to five times already."

Damn Fran and her impeccable observational and listening skills.

"Will you go to her as she's asked?"

His answer was to simply shrug for he did not know. His relationship with the queen had grown...complicated as of late. Mornings at the palace often found him lingering longer than he did six months ago, many times with him and the queen sharing a late breakfast, after which he would slip from the palace to spend the day in the city, only to return again that night. The very fact that he was able to notice these changes was evidence in itself at the frequency of his visits...which in turn was a change.

The days spent away from the palace-which had lessened with each passing month-were filled with thoughts of the queen and when he would quests and adventures he had longed for, and had previously filled him with such daring promise now lacked the luster that caused him to run from the start. In their place, he felt warmth and attachment, and unease at being separated from a woman who was filled with a fierce loyalty and determination, and such tenderness outside of her duties.

In short, he had fallen in love and he was quite vexed with himself for it.

With a sound that could only be described as a growl, he drained a large portion of his ale.

These _distractions_ , as Fran liked to call it-more like inconvenience-had cost him a few times, number one being his reputation, which seemed to be fading into the whisper of time. It was a point of fact that bruised his ego though, strangely, he felt no desire to remedy it. The most recent price for his _distraction_ was paid during an ill fated raid of an ancient Nabradian tomb. It ended with a man he had only met once being shipped off to prison. All because... _bah_ , it didn't matter. He was careless as Fran had said.

"Perhaps," Fran began gently, some of her previous scowl melting away. "Perhaps it is time to face your future, now that you have faced your past."

The tension that Balthier had not been of aware of having melted so that he suddenly felt weary, exhausted.

Had he faced his past? He faced his father, that was certain, but was his death truly the closure Balthier was seeking? The whole business was more complicated than his goings on with the queen. He now felt a sense of regret where there was once anger. But there was freedom in having done what he had done, and in that freedom held the promise of peace.

Strange how only a year ago, the promise of freedom was in the sky.

"Your heart is telling you what your mind won't," Fran said, perhaps sensing his thoughts. "It is acceptance you seek, to regain what once was lost. Family."

"And what of you, Fran?" Balthier sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Will you search again for the family you lost?"

Fran lowered her head at his question, a sorrowful look entering her eyes. It pained him to see her like this. "The Wood will not have me back but," she lifted her eyes, smiling at him through silver lashes. "I have found a new family and I will not lose it should you pursue yours. Is that not itself an adventure?"

Family. It was a word he had not associated with himself in a long time, not since his mother fell to sickness, his father returned from a quest _wrong_ , and his brothers were lost to the judges. It was ridiculous that after everything-running away, and the killing of his own father-that another would be in sight, attainable if only he would stop…

...running.

"Go to her," Fran said. "She has been patient with you but there is fire, and determination in her heart. She will not wait forever." Fran said this with a small smile, as if proud of the queen for her strength.

Balthier also found his lips tugging upwards into a smile as he, too, thought of Ashe's strength. "I suppose consort to the queen has a nice ring to it," Balthier said, laughing at the absurdity of it all. He, former judge turned sky pirate turned...royalty. Absurd indeed and yet…

"A fitting title for a leading man," Fran said.

Balthier chuckled but grew solemn as he caught Fran's eyes, humor fading as he regarded his partner of eight years. She had been with him through everything, and was more loyal than the noble knights of legend. He had not embarked on an adventure as a sky pirate without her.

But perhaps, like Reddas searching for a place to lay down his shame and regrets, Balthier, in past months, had been searching for a place upon which to hang his mantle as a sky pirate.

"You'll be all right?" Balthier couldn't help the clench of guilt he felt as he said it.

Fran's look turned coy, her way of showing arrogance. "I have navigated the world without you," she reminded him. "We shall see each other often. I dare say the queen will not keep you captive in the palace."

Balthier's lips quirked into a smirk. He looked past her, seeking out the barkeep again, and when he got the man's attention, ordered his finest wine. When the two glasses arrived, a sloshing burgundy liquid within, the two pirates raised them.

"To the future," Bathier toasted, taking a generous gulp and immediately grimacing as it burned down his throat. Fran daintily placed the glass back on the table wordlessly. Balthier followed suit. "I dare say I'm looking forward to the quality selection in the palace's wine cellar."

A week later, after Balthier attended to his affairs-one of them being the...liberation of an innocent man from prison-his feet landed softly on the polished stone of a certain queen's balcony.

The Strahl was safe in Fran's capable hands, ready for him should he have need of it.

It was a dark night and quiet, with no moon, and the stars hidden by thick clouds. The rainy season would be upon them soon. A soft breeze came from the west, wrapping around him, as if pushing him to step through the tall and ornate balcony doors.

He reached out and touched the smooth metal handle, hesitating for only a moment, turning it with a click. It opened easily and soundlessly and the cool air of the palace rushed out to him.

He stepped out from the dark cloak of night and into the dimly lit chambers of the queen and stopped. For there she was, standing mere feet away. It was clear she had been waiting for him, though to anyone else who entered the room, the queen was only relaxing after a long day of politics.

She was dressed on a thin nightgown, holding a thick book bound in leather in one hand, her place held by an unadorned finger. Perhaps she heard him on the balcony and stood in anticipation of him entering, for the linen blanket that had been draped across her legs a moment ago was now pooled at her feet.

She was lovely-no, beautiful-in the soft lighting, golden from the shade of the lamp. Her fair hair was left unbound and though her eyes held evidence of a long day, they were also filled with tenderness, simply happy to see him. Her rose colored lips were pulled in a small smile.

Ashe set her book on the intricately carved table beside her and came to Balthier, slender hands reaching out to him until they landed on his chest and gently rose to his shoulders, pulling him in an embrace that he returned with an outpour of relief that she had indeed waited for him.

"How long will you stay," Ashe asked quietly, her voice a whisper of breath against his neck. She placed a small kiss against his warm skin and his heart drummed in his chest.

"For as long as you'll have me," he answered in an equally soft voice that spoke of a silent promise.


	4. Friends Before Love

Much thanks to the ghosts who have read up to this point.

4\. In which a friendship is forged before any love is.

* * *

Ashe stared at the Mist swirling in its beautiful iridescent haze. She was sitting against the wall of the chamber they were resting in, awestruck at the majesty of it all, of Raithwall's untouched tomb.

She had been raised in palaces-marked her height on embellished dining room columns carved with creatures of myth, earned scrapes and scars during daring trips sliding down grand staircase railings; the same activities any growing child finding their feet indulged in.

She was no stranger to displays of austere grandioseness and regarded it as familiar, even homely.

And yet this tomb, dark and silent, ever still with a legacy that extended endlessly through time, felt imposing and impenetrable despite walking within it.

The carvings were unmatched, the heights to which the builders took the ceilings and depths, dizzying.

She let her eyes sweep over the gilded vaults stretched above her and back down along the other side of the wall until they fell upon…

...Balthier, leaning in his casual grace, his arms crossed, and a foot pressed against the wall behind him. He was talking quietly to Fran.

She slid her gaze to the other in her group; Vaan and Penelo, not even bothering to keep their voices at a low volume; Basch and Vossler, both deferent, one scowling and the other somber.

Ashe frowned at the sight of her hastily assembled of ragtag freedom fighters. She had already marked them as having the makings of excellent warriors and friends, sure, but two sky pirates, two street orphans, and a disgraced-though unofficially forgiven-knight.

Strange visitors to the Dynast King's tomb, to be sure.

Her gaze found Balthier again, and this time, his lips pulled up into that roguish smirk of his and he kicked off the wall, sauntering toward her. Fran stayed behind, her wide stare finding the Mist, completely unaffected by her partner's sudden departure from their conversation.

"I'm glad to see, despite the tragic emulation the map suffered, that the view is still enjoyable," Balthier said as he slid down the wall to sit next to her in one fluid motion.

Ashe scoffed, annoyed, and slightly embarrassed if she were honest with herself. He had never outright accused _her_ of the incident from a few days ago, yet his heavy hints brought her endless exasperation, even though it was her fault to begin with.

Balthier was, if she was further honest, frustratingly handsome-frustrating because her unvoiced acknowledgement of that fact was precisely what caused this mess in the first place. And now it seemed his life's mission of vex her at every turn.

Balthier winked at her as if guessing at her thoughts.

She turned away, rose tinting her cheeks. She noticed Basch and Vossler watching them, their expressions carefully blank as they watched Balthier rather than her.

Balthier also noticed and he leaned toward her, his warm arm pressing against hers. His scent enveloped her, stronger than before. She had always been vaguely aware of it, of the smell of gunpowder, though there were components she could never distinguish and she was loath to humiliate herself by inquiring as to what they were. Now, however, with his close proximity, those mystery scents finally revealed themselves to be amberwood and something spicy-cinnamon, perhaps. She breathed it in deep, intoxicated with it.

Balthier, for his part, seemed to misinterpret her action for he nudged her with his elbow. "Come now, Princess, surely my presence isn't so intolerable."

The mention of his presence brought her back to her earlier thoughts. She leaned back against him, only to retreat a moment later, a subtle reclamation of the personal space he was encroaching upon. His lips pressed together in amusement. He pressed his hand against the floor, reading himself to stand but she stopped him with soft words so that the others wouldn't hear.

"How do you feel, being here?"

Balthier paused and lifted his hands, bringing them to rest on his knees, slumping against the wall with hardly a sigh. He tipped his head back so that it rested against the wall. "I feel rather fortunate to be granted access."

She knew what he meant by the way he eyed the gilt walls, his eagerness as he looked ahead to a chamber entrance they had yet to pass through. His hidden meaning was, lest she forget, the very reason for his assenting to the journey.

It was childish, but she rolled her eyes before indignation for her ancestor's resting place surfaced and she scowled.

Balthier looks at her and smirks. "Not to worry, Princess. I can't imagine the great Dynast King would be in want of his treasure _now_."

Ashe's mouth fell open in a rather undignified manner; she gaped at him, scarcely able to believe he would utter that opinion. Balthier, with an amused brow quirked, reached out with his fingers and gently closed her mouth. She swatted his hand away, annoyed at the action.

"Have a care, _sky pirate_. This is the tomb of my ancestor, as I have already reminded you once."

"Yes, by burning my map."

And there it was. They both tossed glares at each other, both vicious and sharp as of the steel of her blade. This silent match was broken when Balthier stretched, his arm bumping against hers. By his lack of apology, she knows it was intentional.

She responded in kind, elbowing him in the rip. To his credit, he did not wince, but the smile playing on his lips was positively wicked and she realized that he was enjoying this childish game of his.

"As I've said before, Princess," Balthier drawled. "I do not believe any of the artifacts I liberate from tombs are needed by their long dead owners. Further," his smile dropped a fraction and his voice lowered. "I believe your noble knights are growing ever more concerned with whatever bad influence I may have on your royal character."

Despite herself, Ashe subtly turned her head, and indeed Basch and Vossler were looking quite tense as they watched princess and sky pirate engage is what appeared to be a clandestine conversation.

She fought a smile as she turned back to Balthier, whose unsmiling face as deceivingly grave; she could still spot the mirth that danced in his eyes.

"I am not easily corruptible, pirate," Ashe said, though the words were not harsh.

"And _yet_ ," Balthier leaned in, whispering the words in her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Vossler take a miniscule step in their direction. "After scarcely three meetings, you begged me to kidnap you."

Ashe knew what game he was playing and if she were truthful to herself-a common occurrence as of late-she found she enjoyed it. After two long years of hiding, fighting, grieving within the shadows, she felt...something akin to an awakening.

All those times spent teasing with Rasler felt both near and far. Those days, stolen moments upon war's doorstep, were held close to her heart for they reminded her that she too was a person who once laughed.

She was not sure if she had it within her to laugh again, at least not yet, so instead she narrowed her eyes slyly. "Ah, but who's suggestion was it to steal into this tomb in the first place?"

Balthier nodded, looking around at the splendor around him again before settling his eyes upon the two knights once more. "And what a fine suggestion it was."

Balthier's eyes met Ashe's again and pirate and princess found themselves locked in each other's daring gaze for a moment before a shadow fell over her and she looked up to see Vossler's frowning face. The sight of it, severe and scowling as he glared down at Balthier, was somehow amusing to her.

"Your highness," Vossler said. "Forgive me, but we must continue."

Ashe didn't have to look at the others to know they were openly staring at her and Balthier. Even Fran turned her head to glance at the scene developing with what looked like smiling eyes. Ashe wouldn't be surprised if she heard the entire conversation all along.

Balthier nudged her again, though his face was still, but the question was clear in his action.

Would she still play the game?

Ashe turned to Vossler. "Another five minutes," she said. "Balthier and I were in the middle of a business transaction."

Vossler blinked, clearly not expecting his princess to disagree with him on this count. "Business transaction?"

"Yes," Ashe explained, sweeping a glance over the chamber with an appraising eye, and focusing on the chamber beyond. "On how best to divvy the treasure."

Vossler gaped, his eyes flicking back and forth between pirate and princess. Even Vaan and Penelo looked shocked, though the former also looked curious and even took a step forward, as if to join the proceedings, before Penelo yanked him back with surprising force.

"You...you can't be serious," Vossler finally forced out from his shock. Under any other circumstance he's most likely rant at length on how the Dynast King's treasure was a sacred bounty, undeserved by none. And Ashe, who would normally agree, suddenly found herself uncaring for any of it. Instead, all Vossler could manage, was stuttered disbelief.

Ashe, with all the humorless regality _she_ could manage, said, "I suppose you'll simply have to wait and see."

It was a clear dismissal and to his credit, Vossler took it, though it was with steel in his gray eyes and it was directed at Balthier. "As you wish, Majesty."

With much reluctance, he made his way back to Basch, who quick as lightening winked at her. She fought the urge to repay it with a smile.

The others breathed a sigh of relief that the tension was over, though Vaan still looked far too invested in his greed to avert his eyes.

And Vossler, well...he continued to watch Ashe and Balthier, his sharp eyes heavy with disapproval.

Ashe sighed and tipped her head back against the gilt wall and stared at the vaulted ceiling. Her heart suddenly felt heavy, as it did before, though it was also filled with guilt at having acted like a petulant child.

"King Raithwall must have been weary of his great mantle, don't you think," Balthier said in a low and pointed voice that none but the two of them could hear. "To always be viewed a certain way."

It was the price of royalty, Ashe thought. To be born with and die with a barrier, one that none but a select few could breach. For to know, truly know, a ruler was a dangerous business that could either end in great happiness or tragedy, something she had learned long ago.

Not much of the true Dynast King was known but his legacy was known to all. And yet, in this dark and opulent tomb, Ashe suddenly knew Raithwall as well as herself.

"Indeed," she whispered, some of her exhaustion voiced in that one word.

"Well then," Balthier said, rising onto his feet as easily as he had sat down. He offered a hand to her. "What are friends for, if not to ease that burden for the royals in their life?"

Ashe stared first at Balthier, his smiling green eyes and smirk that she normally found to be insufferable, and then his hand, callused yet graceful. It was an invitation in friendship, and she found herself grateful that she invited this sky pirate into this tomb. She placed her own callused hand in his and was unsurprised with the strength he demonstrated when he pulled her onto her feet.

"Thank you," she said.

His softening grin felt like her own treasure.


	5. Bargaining Chip

When one is an unwed queen, there is always one bargaining chip in play.

Or,

A certain sky pirate…

(Takes place after Chapter 2 but before Chapter 3.)

* * *

The room, grand and gilt, was blissfully chill, even under the many layers each official seated around the great oak mahogany table wore. Ashe felt at ease, one elbow propped on the cushioned arm of her chair, her chin resting in her elegantly raised hand. Beyond the tall glass windows, her beautiful city baked under an unyielding sun yet she hardly noticed.

A few seats away, decidedly _not_ comfortable, was Ambassador Aritz of Rozzaria. He shifted in his seat, and then tugged at his collar, gulping visibly, the apple in his throat bobbing with the action. He shifted again.

Ashe, having been distracted by this repeated rustled movement for the better part of an hour, let her hand fall to the table with a light smack.

Her education minister, who had been speaking at length about funding and scholarships, abruptly ceased her speech.

"Is there something you wish to address, Ambassador," Ashe said in her most patient but direct voice.

The Ambassador stilled and flushed, apparently embarrassed at having been finally noticed. It was a pretense that Ashe had long ago learned to ignore for the ambassador was a politician of the ambitious sort, who thought himself clever and unassuming by appearing timid. It was a tactic that may have garnered him trust from elite officials in his home country but Ashe was not so easily won.

"I, that is-Rozzaria," he began in his accented tenor voice, "merely wonders at the, ah, matter regarding your marital status."

After eighteen months of veiled statements regarding war, and vague promises regarding peace, the ambassador's frank question caused the room to fall utterly silent and Ashe's eyebrows to rise fully into her hairline.

Once she found her way through the shock, a weariness and a certain amount of anger towards the subject rose and she forcefully drew in a breath to keep calm.

"If you recall, Ambassador, my marital status is that of a widow." There was a finality and sorrow in her words that caused her council members to nod. Unbidden, her hand rose to the silver chain around her neck, on which a simple silver ring hung. She forced herself to breathe.

It was, she gratefully acknowledged, a subject that all in her council were hesitant to broach. On the one hand, she was a widow, tragically made so by needless war. Everyone in Dalmasca-from the poorest bar maiden, to the her closest advisors-respected her for it for they deeply respected Rasler and knew a part of her still mourned for him. And so, they left the subject alone. For the most part.

They dropped subtle hints, mostly inconsequential comments such as, "so-and-so would make a valuable asset to Dalmasca". But she never felt the pressure to wed immediately, even for political reasons; her ties with the two empires was secure, first with her friendship with Larsa, and second with Al-Cid.

On the other hand, she felt no haste to wed, and that was largely due to the palace's worst kept secret: the queen had a lover. His identity may not be available, and it may not have been acknowledged _publicly_ , but existed he did.

Ashe suspected that the respect for her short lived marriage, her status as a widow, and being the warrior queen who successfully won her country back, were the reasons her council tolerated her dalliance.

To put it simply: she had earned the right to be her own mistress for a little while.

Her anger was a product of that fact, while her weariness...well, _someone_ was bound to bring it up eventually.

"Yes, of course," the ambassador stammered, flushing an even deeper shade of scarlet. Ashe could not find it in herself to feel an ounce of guilt. "Only just last week I happened upon a strange man, possibly from Arcades, strolling through the east end gardens, only to climb a trellis to a nearby balcony- _your_ balcony, as it happens."

Ashe was going to flay Balthier and sell the Strahl on the black market.

It took considerable will to keep from cursing and a calm demeanor, though the blood still drained from her face. Her eyes hardened and her lips pressed into a thin line.

"I don't believe that my personal affairs are any of your business," Ashe said.

"Surely not," he countered, suddenly not the same meek creature as before. He straightened in his seat and watched her calmly. "However, I can name several members of Rozzaria's court that would, ah, make a fine match for you, and one rises above them for several reasons."

"You mean he is a greedy snake who would take advantage of her status as a queen and blackmail her," Minister Zohra said with a surprising amount of venom in her voice. Ashe made a mental note to thank her minister of state later.

"It is true," the ambassador said diplomatically, "that a marriage would strengthen ties between Rozzaria and Dalmasca."

"The ties between our two countries is just fine," Ashe snapped, though she attempted to regain some of her composure by adopting a relaxed posture, leaning fully back into her chair and resting her hand on her chin again. Just as a certain sky pirate would do, she realized.

"Indeed, we have reached an unprecedented time of peace," the ambassador agreed. "Yet, I cannot see how it would continue if Your Majesty carries on an affair with a certain sky pirate."

Fran would probably assist in Balthier's murder, she thought.

Ashe braced her hands on the arms of her chair and raised herself to her full height, back rigid, and eyes practically spewing fire.

"That's enough from you, Ambassador." She said this calmly, quietly, with the deadly calm she often demonstrated while dealing with opponents in a fight. "You are dismissed."

The ambassador nodded, seeming to expect this. He shuffled through the papers lying before him, making a great show of organizing them, until he produced a sealed letter and pushed it across the vast table toward her.

Ashe stared at the unmistakably fine, thick parchment, and the crimson wax seal pressed in perfect circle. She knew very well what it was and what it offered.

"Please," the ambassador said, not bothering to explain, "consider this as an alternative to another unnecessary war."

He rose from his chair with barely a rustle and left the room, his exit quick but untroubled. Once the door clicked shut, Ashe rose from her seat and snatched the letter up, tearing it open with vicious speed.

It was as the ambassador hinted, Ashe read, scowling at the infuriating words scrawled so elegantly across the parchment.

Marry the absurdly wealthy noble who was also the unfortunate victim of a certain bloody sky pirate or face the threat of losing some of her borderlands in payment. By force.

How lucky indeed that the ambassador happened upon Balthier in the gardens and recognized him.

Ashe threw the letter back on the table and also rose, the other council members, anxiousness written upon their faces, following suit. "Deal with it," she commanded curtly. "I have some letters to write."

It wasn't until she was outside, in the grand but empty hall, that she paused, taking a deep breath, and placing a hand to her heart, listening to its pounding and willing it to steady.

There would not be a shred of Balthier left when she was through with him.

* * *

Her first letter was to Larsa, to keep him abreast to the situation in a rather formal terms, as would befit the correspondence between two ruling monarchs, though her post script was filled with enough curses for the insufferable pirate to turn the young emperor's ears purple.

Her second letter was to Al-Cid. It was a far more candid version of the letter to Larsa and, to sum it up, called for the charismatic prince to regain control over his nobles. Though far down the line of heirs to the Rozzarian throne, his charm and influence over them as invaluable to her.

And lastly, she sent a colorful transmission to the Strahl, demanding the presence of its owner immediately.

The week was long, her council doing their best to discourage the ambassador from the course with which he presented them. Minister Zohra was, of course, the most vocal of them all, with Minister Keron, the old and graying minister of finance, politely and patiently attempting to reign her in. Flat out refusal was dangerous, they advised, while acquiescence was equally so.

And Ambassador Aritz, though banned from the council chamber, had planted himself outside the great doors and could always be counted on to pester her for answers the moment meetings were finished.

As for a certain sky pirate, Ashe was forced to wait, until one night found her glaring at the ceiling above her bed in a futile attempt to sleep. She heard a thump on her balcony and the soft rattle of the terrance windows as the door was opened.

Ashe was out of bed in an instant, not bothering even to tie her dressing gown over her body; it fell off the bed and pooled uselessly on the floor.

Balthier entered with his usual swagger, though his ever present smirk was absent. He closed the door but made no effort to further enter her chamber, instead opting to stand with crossed arms, feet shoulder width apart. He regarded her seriously, and gods, he was somehow more handsome than before.

Still, she felt no ounce of guilt as she crossed the chamber, lifted a hand, and brought it to his face in a crisp and succinct slap. Her words were not so graceful. "Have you lost your gods bedamned mind, you immoral, _foolish_ , bastard of a pirate?"

Balthier lifted a hand and rubbed his cheek as he lifted a brow. "I must admit, I had missed that foul mouth of yours, but fail to understand why I am its target, nor the reason for this summons which, if I recall, was also less than polite."

"Did you or did you not steal from a Rozzarian noble?"

Balthier stilled, his eyes searching hers as they tried to connect the piece of the strange puzzle presented before him. A shadow passed over his green eyes at the mention of the Rozzarian noble though it was gone in an instant.

"I've liberated many things from many nobles, Rozzarian included," he said in his easy, though careful way. "I can assure you that often times, their owners have no use for them."

Ashe rolled her eyes at his indirect confirmation, and resisted the urge to slap him again. "Apparently, this noble _did_ have need of his _possession_ for he has threatened Dalmasca for payment."

"I would not give that beast of a man two gill to rub." He spat, slipping past her and leaning against her bedpost, his handsome features like stone. "Care to enlighten me on what this is really about?"

Ashe watched him in utter bewilderment at his sudden burst of anger, though she forced herself through it. Balthier did not lose himself for nothing.

"Ambassador Aritz saw you a fortnight ago, here, and is using that and your theft to blackmail me." Ashe explained. "All of this is because of your carelessness." She sank into her elegant chaise lounge and looked at him with searching eyes. "That noble has demanded land or marriage. To me."

He knew very well just how important her independence was-not just for her, but for her country. She would sooner part with all of her land's wealth than hand over any part of said land to another. It was her duty as queen and rescuer of Dalmasca to do so.

Yet, like it or not, she was a young unwed queen, a bargaining chip no matter the respect she wielded, or how good the ties to their allies.

"You cannot marry that man," Balthier practically growled, his wrathful eyes boring into her. He looked ready to seriously injure whatever perceived threat he found.

"Balthier," she ventured softly, " _what_ did you steal?"

Balthier cursed and looked away, his eyes roaming the vast chamber. "Nothing that wasn't his," he said voice filled with quiet rage. "What was his name?"

Ashe named the noble and was startled when Balthier cursed again, his voice filled with absolute disgust. "Will you believe me when I tell you that it truly _was_ a liberation?"

He had her attention, much like he did on the Phon Coast so long ago. "Explain."

His hardened eyes flashed as he perched on the foot of the bed, his arms crossed. The air around him seemed to spark as evidence of his anger. "Fran and I responded to a bill from a Viera, vague as it was, for it shared no information on what we were to face. Yet Fran insisted and I accepted for who was I deny her helping a fellow Viera.

"The petitioner was a young Viera by the name of Bryn, who had heard heroic tales of a certain sky pirate and his Viera partner. To summarize a long story, her sisters had gone missing, though she had recently received information from several sources as to their whereabouts." Balthier paused, taking a breath, as if he needed strength to say the words that came next. "They were said to be imprisoned in a certain Rozzarian noble's cellar."

Ashe's hand flew to her mouth as her heart stuttered. "Oh gods," she whispered, chills running to the core of her body. Balthier stood abruptly and crossed the room to the window though he immediately looked down and not at his clear reflection.

"Ashe. We found them. In poor health, fright coming from their very souls, their bodies obviously used for…" He turned back to her, the shadow that flashed across his eyes earlier present again, obviously haunted by the memories she had forced him to conjure. "Our rescue did not go without problems-we were seen which made escape almost impossible. The commotion attracted the demon himself; he must have recognized me somehow." He shook his head, as if still trying to solve that particular mystery. "After we returned the poor Viera to Erupt Village, I came to you seeking...well, in my haste, I must not have exercised caution for I suppose I was seen _again_."

It was with a shock that Ashe remembered that night; a beautiful and clear one by all accounts, where horrors seems impossible and yet they were. Balthier had come, seeming impatient to see her and instead of making love, he simply held her until morning, staying even for breakfast, the first he had done so.

"Why did you not speak of it," Ashe whispered, rising from her lounge and going to him. He did not turn though she saw him watching her from the corner of his green eyes. She placed a hand on his, feeling the need to touch him in some way as a wave of utter fondness and adoration swept over her.

"By the Viera's request," Balthier said. "They wanted not to be led into Hume politics and to heal."

"Yes, but," Ashe protested. "The bastard who abducted them is free to do it again."

"Ah, about that." Balthier shook his head darkly. "We did, of course, alert Al-Cid of the noble's fiendish ways and it was agreed the matter would be handled quietly, though I know not what that entails. Most likely the noble will be stripped of his titles and lands and imprisoned. And no doubt your ambassador was somehow involved as well to have agreed to deliver the low life's demands, which are obviously a last attempt at regaining the upper hand."

"Perhaps they thought I wouldn't dare defend a sky pirate publically," Ashe mused quietly, shaking her head. "Despite that you are declared a national hero and pardoned of your crimes."

"A point of fact for which I am ever grateful," Balthier smiled, though the glint that was so often present in his eyes was still absent. He turned to her and regarded her with those dark eyes, frowning, and looking deeply troubled. "Ashe. I must admit I came here for my own selfish reasons, as well as for your message. I had heard a rumor...one of marriage."

His earlier behavior suddenly became clear to her-his absence of his smirk, his standoffish stance; he had come prepared to face the end of their arrangement.

Heart pounding, she grabbed his hand and turned him toward her, both hands cupping his handsome and tense face and looking into his green eyes which barely held back some unnamed emotion. "No marriage is being considered," she whispered. "You will be the first to know of such things, I promise you that."

It was the best she could do, given her position as queen and his as sky pirate. Perhaps he knew this, for his eyes searched hers for a moment, before softening. He brought his arms around her in a tight embrace. "I am sorry for the week this mess has no doubt caused you."

"I am sorry for my assault on you," she pulled away and examined his cheek, still red from her slap. "Are you okay?"

"I fear I shall live." His warm fingers tilted her chin up and he pulled her towards him. His lips captured hers in a hungry kiss that grew heated within seconds. She felt his fingers play with the thin straps of her nightgown and though she desperately wanted to lose herself and forget the week in his touch, she pulled away.

"You must stop these retreats of yours," Balthier protested, lust coloring his words.

Ashe grabbed her dressing robe from where it laid abandoned on the floor and tied it on, throwing him an eyeroll. "I need deal with this absurd blackmail and imprison a certain ambassador. You are welcome to accompany me."

"With pleasure," Balthier drawled, seeming cheerful at this prospect, though a dark threat loomed in his eyes. They made to leave her chambers but as he opened the door, she placed her hand on his and stopped him.

"Are...are they okay, the Viera?" She was almost fearful of the answer, yet she needed to know.

Balthier sighed but he nodded. "They will be, with time."

Ashe nodded, wrapping her arms around his waist and holding him, much like he had held her those two short weeks ago. "What would Ivalice do without you?"

"Likely not exist," Balthier said in his arrogant manner that left no room for argument. Ashe, for once, was inclined to agree with him.

* * *

Much thanks for the review 3


	6. Five Facts on a Lonely Night

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of visiting the Square Enix cafe in Tokyo. I was woefully disappointed by its lack of Balthier sightings, however. The food was good though ;) Anyway. Thanks for reading, as always.

6\. In which Ashe presents herself with five facts about her relationship with Balthier, courage is lost, and a transmission is sent.

* * *

The facts were these, five in all, and all complicated in their own way.

The first: Ashe was an unwed queen, bombarded with marriage invitations and offers. Of course, it hadn't always been so. The new queen of Dalmasca enjoyed relative peace on the matter, until five months ago when a lord from Rozzaria attempted to blackmail her into a marriage. The plan backfired tremendously for he was soon arrested and imprisoned for abduction, enslavement, and a host of other unsavory crimes that made Ashe sick to think about. But that was another story altogether.

Though it had passed quickly, the entire country seemed to have learned of the lord's attempt at marriage, which seemed to have opened the floodgates for other potential suitors. A new offer seemed to arrive weekly.

Which brought her to another fact: Ashe had a lover and no intention of marrying soon.

Because here was yet another fact: her lover was a sky pirate, world renowned and respected for saving Rabanastre, though still possibly a criminal. His desire to keep in favor with Their Majesties, the Emperor of Arcadia and the Queen of Dalmasca, kept him from leaving definite clues about his identity in the aftermath of his adventures. Ashe and Larsa were not stupid however, though she couldn't claim to know that about the rest of Ivalice.

The fact that Balthier was a sky pirate presented many problems for Ashe. It wasn't that he was a criminal, for she had pardoned him of his crimes for his service to her, and he had the good grace to not rob her country blind. Rather, it was his itinerant lifestyle that was the problem. No prince consort could gallivant across the world on a whim in search of treasure, desperate to escape his past.

Though, she reasoned, as queen the responsibilities her prince consort would take on was ultimately her decision. Perhaps a glorified emissary, free to travel the skies on the guise of state business, though she wondered how fast he would sprint from that type of obligation.

As initially opposed as her council would be if she proposed marriage to Balthier, they could not deny this fact: Ffamran "Balthier" mied Bunansa came from a good family worthy of their consideration.

Ashe sighed loudly, frustration forcing the air out. It was late, the hour nearing midnight. The palace was utterly silent. Her enormous desk was littered with papers, most of them regarding marriage, though there were some concerning trade agreements, and some city reports, courtesy of Penelo. They were all mostly pushed aside so they framed a single piece of parchment listing the very facts running through her mind. A list of pros and cons, she realized. And how she hated it.

Marriage should not be this complicated, nor should she be plagued with pressure from others on the subject.

Once, a lifetime ago it seemed, she had a marriage that upon first look was indeed complicated. Wrought with political and tactical advantages, she had been urged into marrying Prince Rasler Heios of Nabradia. Yet, upon closer look, the marriage was an easy decision, one at which she leapt for in her love for Rasler.

The blissful but short happiness she shared with Rasler haunted her memories and her heart. She knew she would never find a man in the same vein as her long dead prince, nor would her love for this new man be the same.

But what of a man on the same tier, a man of his own merit, who pushed and challenged her in all the ways Rasler did and could not? And what of a love that was indeed different, yet still thrilling and worthwhile for the experience she now held? Because the final fact was this: she was in love with the sky pirate, and he was all of those things.

Her mind was now plagued by a different memory: that of a week ago when her courage abandoned her and she failed to ask one simple question.

* * *

It was early morning, the sun had just broken over the horizon, bathing the deserts of Dalmasca in a soft pink light that would soon explode into brilliant reds and oranges, like a fire burst from the heavens.

Ashe was awake, as she often was in those morning hours, first because a queen's job started early, and second because her heart knew a newly breaking day meant the departure of her bed mate.

She often spent the dawning hours watching Balthier. She never dared to move, lest she wake him. She discovered much about him this way, as only a lover could: the way the light moved across the panes of his face; how he preferred to sleep upon his back, rather than his side like her. He often slept with an arm flung over his head and his leg often drifted to her side and wound through hers, seeking a physical connection while they slept. The flutter of his eyelashes while he dreamed never ceased to fascinate her, while the softening of his lips tempted her.

On this morning, however, she was staring at the brightening sky. The sun's rays would soon stir Balthier awake, and with that would come the suggestion of breakfast before her duties would call her away.

It became harder to let breakfast end as of late, for she knew that when they finished, Balthier would be gone.

Sometimes, he was merely in the city and would return that night, but sometimes it would be a few days or more before she saw him again.

She had grown anxious of those trips for she never knew _when_ he would return to her, or if he would stop all together. Or if there was a greater danger that threatened him that she was unaware of.

There was a domesticity to their lives now, one she had once admitted she could grow accustomed to and perhaps now was that time.

But how does one ground a sky pirate?

The idea, as soon as it came to her, was abhorrent to her; the stories of his adventures and his illicit occupation were a part Balthier's sense of self.

So then, how does a _queen_ maintain a love affair with a sky pirate so that it was both acceptable and beneficial to her country, while also remaining fulfilling to her?

Ashe rolled on her side away from Balthier, loathing coursing through her body for being forced to think in those terms.

Her time with Balthier was running out, not just for the morning, but their entire relationship lest she act. With the ever increasing line of suitors knocking at her door it was only a matter of time before she would be forced to make a decision.

Resistant and unready as she was, she did acknowledge there was a deadline to her youth; Dalmasca needed an heir. Matters of the heart required time; she refused to enter a loveless marriage, not when she had already attained it once.

Here it was again, if only he were willing.

Balthier finally stirred, and Ashe stiffened as he stretched, muttering about the blasted sun. She felt him still before turning to her and gently rolling her on her back so he could gaze down at her.

"No silent watch this morning, Princess?" His teasing tone was mixed with lingering sleep.

For once she didn't scowl at his persistent use of her old title and instead bit her lip as a rush of emotions rolled through her, trepidation being one. Perhaps he sensed it for he blinked away the sleep in his eyes and was instantly alert. "What is it?"

"I don't know how to form the words," she responded. Her hands wrung the soft sheets, though they longed to touch him. She cast a look toward the window, noting the sun's location.

Balthier was an astute man, though. She felt him tense above her and sat up when he pulled away, his eyes heavy with emotion she couldn't work out because he looked away-not at the rising sun, but at her chambers. As if committing them to memory for a later goodbye.

"Balthier," she whispered, feeling all at once vulnerable and meek, utterly out of control and inarticulate for the moment. "Please. Stay. At my side."

They talked often of the future, yet never of marriage. This was as close to a marriage proposal as she dared with him.

"Ashe…" He didn't look at her and his cowardly response filled her with anger.

"Why? What in Ivalice is so important that you would give this up?"

She watched as he swallowed and still refused to look at her. "My freedom."

"I am not a chain anchoring you," Ashe hissed. "Nor is marriage. It is a partnership built on trust and support. Much like the partnership you share with Fran. You would not share my burden of the crown."

Balthier flinched and Ashe barreled on, passion coating her words, desperate for him to her see her way of things. "This is an opportunity for new family and a _home_. Why must you run from that?"

"Try as you might to convince me otherwise, Ashelia," he said carefully. "I cannot surrender my wings just yet."

"I am not asking for surrender, only to stand as my equal."

Far sooner than she was ready for, her words studiously ignored, Balthier stood and gathered his discarded clothes. He said nothing as he put them on, all the while avoiding her burning eyes. Her hands were white as she gripped the sheets, though she dared not let go. They were her anchor, and they kept her from shaking in her budding heartbreak.

Balthier didn't bother to button his vest; he turned to her when he finished putting it on. There was nothing relaxed about the sight. He looked disheveled and pale, his open vest adding an impotent aura one never associated with Balthier.

Her heart hammered in her chest but she narrowed her eyes. "If you leave, I cannot guarantee..."

"A queen's duties are ever altruistic," Balthier muttered with a great deal of bitterness, scoffing as if the universe jested cruelly with him. "A marriage must be made."

"I'd prefer it be with you," Ashe whispered, willing her tears away as her throat closed from the suppression of her emotions.

Balthier smiled, though there was no humor in them, only sorrow and yearning. "I know."

They shared a look, both motionless as unnamed emotions passed through the air between them. Part of Ashe screamed at her to breathe life to them: _I will not love another. You are my unrivaled match. Only you have the audacity necessary to stand up to me_ _and with me_.

The noble, dignified part of her warred with her emotions and won; she said nothing.

"Please, at least grant me the favor of knowing when I am no longer welcome," Balthier said with begrudging submission to whatever ran through his thoughts.

"You will always be welcome."

Balthier shook his head, a ghost of the roguish smile he favored appearing. "I doubt your new husband would agree."

"We shall see."

After a moment, Balthier sighed, and turned to the balcony doors and crossed the chamber. His hand hesitated over the door handle, as if entertaining a reversal of his stance. But no, the door opened, filling the room with hot desert air, and Balthier was gone as the door closed again with a click.

* * *

Ashe let her head fall in her hands, mindful of the pen resting between her fingers.

It had been a long week in which she had heard nothing from Balthier, though that was customary. The manner in which he left-ran...fled-haunted her so that she could not sleep. Her council was growing concerned, she knew; several had commented on her sallow appearance, only to regret their uttered worry when she speared them with a fiery look.

She had busied herself in work in an effort to escape the memory of her disastrous conversation with Balthier but to no avail.

As queen, she couldn't afford to wait, not if she wanted a meaningful connection to her future husband. As a woman, her heart could not bear to consider anyone but the one it chose for her.

And so, here Ashe was, sifting through various suitor candidates, halfheartedly searching for one that seemed within the realm of possibility for her, when the whole idea suddenly rang of absolute absurdity of the highest. She had grabbed a sheet of parchment and made her list, which now also seemed absurd.

Ashelia Dalmasca was a queen for god's sake. Surely she need not be given permission to follow her heart once in her reign.

She reached into the side drawer to her right where she kept the various miscellaneous things one often accumulated in a desk-pens, seals, hair pins-and dug around for the small metal square towards the back. It was scarcely used, for she limited her communication to Balthier mainly to letters, yet she still kept this little transmitter for emergencies, as this was.

She turned it on and the crackling it made was almost a comfort to her, as if she could reach into it and find Balthier's hand. It was, of course, already tuned to the Strahl's frequency. The little red light at the top was unnerving yet she took a breath and collected her thoughts. She pressed the transmit button, the red light turning green, and she began.

"Balthier. I beseech you one last time: stop running. I will wait, but I pray you make a decision, and soon." She paused and closed her eyes, allowing her voice to soften. "We have found a happiness that cannot be duplicated, for which many strive . Do not relinquish what could be great. Your freedom will not suffer, I promise you that."

Ashe stopped, and released the button. Gently, she turned the transmitter off and placed it on her desk, atop the parchment bearing her list, and sat back. And waited.


	7. In Which Tension is Almost Released

I mostly write these as a way to fill my free time at my desk but also as a warm up for original stuff-I think this little piece might be my favorite so far. Hope you enjoy it as well. As always, thanks for reading.

7\. In which tensions are almost released though, let's face it, it's rather impractical to begin a love affair on a resistance campaign.

* * *

They had been dancing around each other for weeks now.

It was a careful dance, one spent ensuring the most amount of time could be spent together with minimal suspicion. That involved volunteering for watches together, though of course not too many. In the beginning there was begrudging acceptance-mostly on her part-for being placed together but that faded into a quiet pleasure at spending time with a friend.

They looked forward to those two hours sitting in the dark by their cheerfully crackling fire. She would reminisce about her life growing up in a palace, and he would regale her with grand retellings of his adventures, though towards the end of their journey he too would talk of his past now that his secret had been revealed.

During the day, they often found themselves drifting towards each other, spending the travelling hours in easy conversation. One or two of the others would join on occasion, but they never left each other's side for the duration of it.

They often found their eyes drifting to the other. At first, Ashe told herself she was merely checking on him, before moving to 'check on' someone else. Whatever that meant. At first, Balthier told himself that his interest only lay with what she offered financially.

Over time, they were forced to admit the truth to themselves; Ashe was drawn to Balthier's wit and intelligence-that he was unfairly handsome was a welcome bonus. Balthier was drawn to her unwavering spirit and sharp mind. That she possessed beauty was all the better.

Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that their attraction to each other would bloom into full lust, frustrated by the fact that they were on a resistance campaign and frankly, there seemed no convenient way to relieve the tension.

Inns with private rooms were a rare luxury dependent on their financial situation. When they did rest at an inn-usually at Balthier's demand for his patience with bedrolls and camp fires had a limit-they shared rooms as that was easier on their purses. And so it was camp most nights, with shared tents and a constant watch.

Any meaningful look, followed by a quick escape into the woods, always seemed to be thwarted by another-usually Vaan asking too many questions as usual.

Both-well, mostly Ashe-felt too exposed for a quick interlude while on watch. Besides, if the worst should happen and they were attacked, how were they to explain _why_ the attack happened?

During it all, Ashe felt giddy when Al-Cid boldly and openly flirted with her for she heard the scoff coming out of Balthier's perfect lips. Similarly, Balthier felt delight when he saw the grumpy effect a barmaid's attentions toward him caused the princess.

Basch certainly noticed her behavior around the sky pirate and wholeheartedly disapproved. Yet he, and Fran as well, did nothing to stop it because, awkward as it was, Ashe wasn't just his queen and a widow-she was a flesh and blood woman as well. Just as Balthier was a virile, handsome man in the prime of his life.

There were times when they almost gave into the temptation and went to one another. There were many times when Ashe would pause outside of Balthier's cabin on the Strahl. She would regard the closed silver doors, sleek and polished, considering, before she shook her head and continued on her way.

On the other side of the door, Balthier would sit on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching the small shadow from under the door. He would think of opening the door and pulling her in, anything to satisfy the maddening desire coursing through him.

By the time he stood and reached the panel to open the door she would be gone in a soft pad of footsteps and he would silently curse himself for his thought and lack of impulse.

If he were a man with temerity, he would claim her as Al-Cid all but had, yet the memory of her station sometimes-most times-gave him pause. She was a princess, a queen in her own right, after all and he an itinerant sky pirate in love with the sky's freedom.

If she were a woman for which reputation and caution were not necessary, she would lay down her barriers and lay claim to him. Yet it was deep buried insecurities she could not afford to show to the others that gave her pause. What would a roguish sky pirate want with a princess who voluntarily went back to her gilded cage?

Everything, Balthier thought to himself as Ashe strung together another series of curses black as the night sky, all of which were directed at the snow and biting wind of the Paramina Rift.

He would take his time with her and peel back every layer, making a study of each, until he got to the woman within; the determined and unwavering princess, literature enthusiast, widow, warrior. Lover.

Watching the princess shivering before the fire, teeth clattering and all around pitiful was enough for Balthier to stand from his side of the camp, cross to hers, and drape an arm across her shoulders.

Ashe stiffened for all of a second before relaxing into his offered warmth.

"You can't see behind," she protests, reminding him unnecessarily that they are on their watch shift.

"Not that I could hear an enemy approaching with your teeth clattering and unending cursing, Princess," he easily retorted.

Ashe said nothing but the way she buried her head into his chest was answer enough.

It's after Pharos and the death of both Reddas and his father that Ashe once again found herself outside of Balthier's door.

She considered and he watched, until they both made a decision on the basis that, after everything, life was simply too short to keep considering and watching.

Ashe lifted her hand to knock, her hand just descending upon the metal door when it opened suddenly and Balthier stood there; hot desire, need, grief, and vulnerability all crowded and fought for dominance and attention in his eyes.

Regret crept through her as she saw the situation for what it was.

She took a step back. "Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude," she said quietly, eyes cast to the gray floor. Or take advantage, she did not say.

"Ashe," Balthier said, equally as quiet. The use of her name caused her to look up.

The storm of emotions raging through him had calmed so when she looked at him again, he was more focused, his eyes pinned solely on her.

"This has to end."

Oh. Biting her lip and feeling wholly deflated and a slew of other things, she turned away. She would not fight; better to nurse her embarrassment and give him distance to mourn and forget. Of course she would be rejected she-

She did not expect him to grab her arm and stop her before she even took one step.

"You misunderstand," Balthier said, softer still, and suddenly so close that she has no choice but to look straight into his eyes.

"All this time, there hasn't _been_ time," he continued. "And now...you see, Princess, the problem now is that if I kiss you, all of my restraint will be lost," he inched closer, his lips a whisper away, "I will not be able to stop."

Ashe's eyes were now staring unblinkingly at his lips, her breathing and body heavy with unreleased lust. "So be it."

Balthier needed no more urging and his lips crashed onto hers. Ashe melted against his strong frame, her knees suddenly buckling from the outburst of need she felt.

He was greedy with his kiss, roughly claiming and exploring and she more than willing.

There was warmth, softness; their tastes intoxicating to the other. Balthier stepped back, pulling her with him and he leaned against the outside wall of his cabin.

Ashe in turn pressed herself even closer to him, her desire for him increasing as she felt the evidence of his. Balthier buried his hands in her hair and held her, his mouth urging her for more, to which she readily consented.

Ashe's insecurities melted away while her station was the the furthest thing from Balthier's mind. All that mattered was each other and getting their fill.

Distantly, Ashe heard rushing footsteps clambering through the airship but they were so far away and Balthier was so near that they hardly mattered while Balthier thought that perhaps they should retreat to his cabin and lock the door.

"Ashe! Balthier! Al-Cid is here and-"

The two sprang apart as Vaan-owner of the obnoxious running-burst into the corridor.

The aspiring sky pirate stopped in his tracks, his face reddening as he beheld pirate and princess, both breathless and seething as they flung fiery glares at him.

Ashe had half a mind to murder Vaan, gods help him, when Penelo appeared behind Vaan. The young girl took one look at Ashe and Balthier, their swollen lips, and followed the direction of their anger. She promptly whacked Vaan across the back of his head. " _Vaan_!"

" _What_?" Vaan defended himself, wincing in pain, annoyance coloring his words. "How was I supposed to know what they were doing? And besides, Al-Cid said it was _urgent_."

Penelo sighed the long suffering sigh she had-most likely developed from years of being Vaan's unwilling keeper-and dragged him away.

For good measure, Ashe made a foul gesture at his back before turning back to Balthier, whose eyes were now lit with amusement.

"If your dirty mouth is any indication, I am in for quite a treat later," he said with a wicked smile.

Ashe returned it, though her anger for Vaan had not lessened, and she reached for Balthier to finish what they started. "Why wait?"

His hand met hers and though he laced his fingers through hers, he did not let her approach further. "I meant what I said," he explained when she looked at him with confusion. "If we start again, there will be no stopping it, and I'm loath to be interrupted again."

Loath as _Ashe_ was to leave this as it was-Vaan-ruined-she reluctantly agreed with a nod.

"Duty calls," she said with a heavy sigh, unable to break her gaze with Balthier's mouth.

Balthier seemed much the same for he cursed and his lips were on hers again. She drank him in as his hand clasped her shoulders tightly before he broke away with a gentle shove.

"Duty calls," Balthier echoed her, placing a sweet kiss upon her brow before resting his forehead on hers. "Gods grant me patience," he murmured, their breath mingling in the space between.

Giggling despite everything, Ashe nodded again and together they made their way through the airship-the air between them still charged with blatant sexual tension-to whatever Al-Cid deemed urgent.


	8. A Quick Interlude

Obviously this collection is meant to be Balthier/Ashe but I find Larsa and Penelo to be another fascinating couple that I couldn't resist writing. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks always for reading.

8\. In which Penelo is injured, prompting a quick interlude of recovery under Larsa's watchful eye.

Eight years flew by, quite literally, when one was a sky pirate.

Penelo thought not much of it until her twenty fourth birthday arrived. It, like so many others, had come and gone, leaving her none the wiser, though a bit like perhaps she ought to slow down. Sometimes it still seemed like she was that naive sixteen year old who helped save the world.

All the time in between seemed melded together, until they were all blurs-elaborate heists from distant and long forgotten tombs; hours spent repairing her and Vaan's airship; small interludes celebrating birthdays, weddings, coronations.

At times-many times-Penelo pinched herself for reassurance that it wasn't all a dream, that she really _was_ a sky pirate, not an impoverished street urchin; that Balthier really _had_ married Ashe; and that she could claim one of Ivalice's most powerful men as her trusted penpal.

She almost laughed at the thought. Penpal. The term seemed so juvenile, yet there was no other way for her to describe it.

They exchanged letters, and often. It got to the point that she felt she knew him better than she knew herself, and certainly Vaan.

And Emperor Larsa Solidor was indeed a man now, she realized when last they met. Months later, she was still thinking of that realization, of how... _handsome_ he had become. When had _that_ happened?

Eight years indeed.

Penelo shook her head as she looked at the mark posting Vaan had given her. It seemed easy enough; a beast of some sort just outside of the Archades, where she and Vaan were due the next day for a state dinner as guests of Ashe and Balthier, who were visiting.

Vaan had grumbled about it all, saying that he had better things to do. Penelo, glad for the break in traveling, dragged Vaan to the tailors for a decent outfit anyway.

She shook her head again. Focus; it was time to hunt.

She checked her supplies-Vaan's too since he never seemed to pack enough of anything-their weapons, which Vaan at least managed to keep gleaming and sharp. After she checked the airship's fuel levels and everything she could think of, she braced her hands on her hips and smiled.

What could go wrong?

 _Everything_ , it turned out, though Penelo hardly remembered any of it as Vaan carried her through the aerodome of the palace in Archades.

As the worry filled faces of her friends surrounded her, Vaan was ushered inside and a summons for a healer was sent, while an unimaginable pain swept through her. She tried to remember what happened but only recalled vague glimpses of an ambush, the _boom_ and _spark_ of a gun-the source of her earth shattering pain-followed by the slow sting of poison.

And Vaan. Vaan with the foresight to bring her here, to the palace rather than attempt to heal her himself.

Vaan who laid down his arrogant ego to do so. That was a first.

She stirred a little, mumbling something though her fever muddled the words into incoherency. She was transferred to someone else's arms. Strong arms. Warm.

And the world faded.

~OoO~

When she woke, Penelo was the warmest she had ever been, though probably also in the most pain as well.

And though she smelled medical supplies-their sterilization and healing magic did have a distinctive tang in their scent-it was not a hospital bed she found when she opened her eyes. Instead she lay in a rather ornate bed, in an equally ornate room. There were huge windows, stretching floor to ceiling, that flooded the cream and gold accented room with sun.

Like the Dalmascan desert, she thought, as she always did when she stayed in these rooms.

She was in the imperial palace in Archades.

Penelo tried to sit up, but then groaned at the monumental effort that was as pain filled her side.

"Please try not to move," a familiar voice, a rich tenor, said to her right. She followed that sound and found Larsa sitting on a simple white chair, looking a little worse for wear. Dark circles framed his ice blue eyes, his black hair was rumpled, and his golden summer skin seemed faded.

She tried to form words to ask how long he had been there, waiting for her to wake up, but her tongue was lead and her throat dry so the words were little more than a rasp. Larsa quickly brought a glass of water from the table beside the bed and helped her raise her head, cradling it gently in his hands as she drank.

"You gave us quite a scare," he said gently, pulling the glass away when she had drained it; he lay her head back down, his fingers brushing her hair from her forehead. They lingered there for a half second before he pulled away and sat back down.

That touch, sure and tender-she yearned for it when it was gone.

"What happened?" Her voice was hoarse, barely sounding like hers at all. How long had she been out?

Larsa still leaned forward in his chair, toward her, arms resting upon his knees. A casual, relaxed pose, probably never seen by his advisors or the public. But for her...a friend…

"From what Vaan told me," he said, "it was a trap. Some vengeful sky pirates posted the mark and simply waited. Apparently you and Vaan _allegedly_ stole a piece of treasure out from under their noses."

Sweet Larsa, always ready with a quick word of defensive denial regarding her occupation, even when he gave her a smile that suggested he knew _exactly_ was she was up to.

She merely gave him a shrug, as if to say _what can you do_ , but winced from the pain shooting up from her abdomen.

"How's-how is Vaan," she asked once the pain subsided.

Larsa's expressed turned grave. "He's gone after the sky pirates, to bring them to justice."

Panic at her partner doing something so dangerous alone had Penelo once again trying to push herself out of bed. "I need to help him," she moaned with pain. Her arms were weak, though, and she soon fell back into bed. White hot pain shot through her side.

"You'll do no such thing," Larsa gently, but with some of his emperor's authority, said as he lightly grasped both her shoulders and guided her back down into her pillows. "You're to recover here. The bullet pierced your side and, along with that damage, spread poison through your body. Vaan has everything under control. A certain prince consort is assisting."

Penelo relaxed a little at the thought of Vaan being with Balthier. Prince or no, he still traveled the skies often and no doubt kept his network of contacts in good standing. A literal pirate prince. Ashe had no shortage of deprecating remarks about the whole business, though there was always a sparkle in her eye-when they weren't rolling skyward.

A strange sort of light entered Larsa's eyes-pride and fear, it looked like. He pinned Penelo with it, all thoughts of the queen of Dalmasca and her consort vanishing. Larsa looked her up and down, pausing at the bundle of bandages at her side, and then her own eyes.

"You must be very successful at what you do," he said quietly, "if someone wanted you dead that desperately."

Penelo found no response to that. Yes, she was a successful sky pirate, though that was mostly due to Vaan. _Her_ job mainly consisted of keeping _him_ alive, a roll she excelled at though was increasingly becoming weary of for there never seemed to be any rest.

And perhaps now...now she could rest. As if her body were agreeing to that thought, Penelo felt herself growing heavy, drowsy, and she smiled at Larsa. "I'm successful at most things."

This truly was the warmest bed she'd ever slept in-the most comfortable as well. It really would be nice to spend her days in it. She blinked, forcing herself to stay awake just a bit longer. Larsa, seeming to know she was falling back asleep, took one of her hands in both of his, giving her a comforting squeeze.

"Then recover quickly," he said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without your letters to warm my heart."

As Penelo closed her eyes, she sighed thinking that yes, Larsa _had_ grown up and was possibly the most handsome man she knew.

~OoO~

And so it went.

Penelo would wake in her impossibly comfortable bed and find Larsa sitting beside her, papers in hand and strewn about the floor as if he were running his empire from her recovery room.

He was, she realized, when a desk was brought in, and sometimes he would pause in his work to ask her a question, or chat about anything, as if their letters were now reality, which she supposed they were. He had a pile of books brought in for her, for she had expressed her interest in literature in their letters often.

Eventually the pain in her side became an unpleasant memory, though she had to admit she rather liked the scar. Before long, the healers cleared her to take short walks out of bed and though Larsa insisted it was unnecessary, she forced him to move back to his office, surprising him when her first trip out of bed was to visit.

A chair was set by the large windows in his office and her days turned into reading and gazing out the window at the busy city below.

One day, a week into her recovery, she sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair.

"Is there something wrong?" Larsa asked, pausing in whatever letter he was writing. "Have you grown bored so fast?" A note of concern hovered in his words.

"No," Penelo said. "Just utterly contented."

And indeed she was. It had been months, years probably, since she had stayed in one place for so long. The past eight years had been spent in an airship chasing adventures and treasures and she never seemed to get the sounds of the engines out of her mind. Whenever she wrote a letter to Larsa or received one, she wondered about the quiet that he lived in.

Here it was. Quiet. Her body stationary, and her mind unburdened.

Eight years. She had...not lost them, for she cherished those years with her good friend, growing and seeing the world, but they had slipped through her hands, like she never had a chance to grab hold before they were carried away.

She sensed Larsa watching her and it was a long while before the scratch of his pen resumed.

This was easy, she thought, being so close to her best friend. Vaan was, and always would be, a great and loved friend, but nobody quite knew her mind-her heart-like Larsa.

And Gods-when exactly in the past eight years had he grown so handsome?

Acting on an impulse she didn't know she had or questioned, Penelo rose from her chair and crossed the room to his desk. His pen stopped once more as she walked around the desk and sat on the edge, right by where his right hand lay.

Larsa looked up at her, his ice blue eyes meeting hers. Her heart fluttered as he did not lean away and met her boldness with confident ease, marked by curiousness as his eyes roamed over her face, settling upon her lips.

Penelo smiled, encouraged by his subtle interest. "Tell me about life in the palace."

She knew very well about life in the palace-how Basch kept unwanted courtiers away, establishing order and security; how his advisors constantly pressured him for marriage; how the parties were grand, yet sometimes dreadfully boring and lonely.

"Tell me about why you keep doing this," Penelo said, gesturing to the papers before them. "About the parts of it that bring you joy."

Penelo knew about those as well, but something about hearing it in his own voice was significant to her. And perhaps Larsa sensed that for his full lips spread into a smile and she thought her heart would burst when he said, "well for starters, it brought me to you."

~OoO~

Five days later, Penelo had graduated to taking strolls through the garden overlooked by Larsa's office. She never left sight of it, content to be in his view while among the beautiful blossoms. Often times she found herself glancing up at the window, as if keeping him in her view. They took their meals together where he continued telling her about his work's passions.

Her mind was full of all the good he wished to do and was already accomplishing-education programs, poverty relief, orphan rights and welfare-inspired he said, by her.

It was incredible, she thought, how much influence he wielded, how he dedicated himself to do the best he could with the life given to him. And all while she indulged in pure escapism. Perhaps it was fine for Vaan but that was his enterprise-what of hers? How was she helping the world?

The next day, when Penelo found herself strolling through the gardens once more, she saw Larsa approaching, parchment in hand. Her heart sank, sensing what it was.

"We've received a transmission for you, from Vaan," Larsa said, eyes boring into her. "He's found the other sky pirates and captured them. He'll come for you in three days time."

Penelo touched her side,where the bullet had gone through. In the two weeks she had been here, she had made a full recovery-the thought of leaving had never crossed her mind, and now here it was.

Larsa held out the slip of parchment for her to read and she numbly lifted her hand and grasped it. She did not pull away, and he did not let go. She stared at their two hands connected by this strange bridge of promised separation and, guided by the same impulse she felt a week ago, looked back up at Larsa's ice blue eyes. "I don't want to leave."

Relief flooded into Larsa's eyes, and he unleashed his full beautiful smile on her. "Then stay."

He pulled the paper out of her grasp and her whole body followed it, crushing against his as his hand caught her chin and brought her lips to his in a deep kiss that made her toes curl.

Emperor Larsa Solidor, as it turned out, was not only extremely handsome and charitable, but promised to be an accomplished lover as well.

The thought made Penelo smile against his lips.

Perhaps she could excuse the rush of the past eight years if they brought her to this point.


	9. Dreams of the Dead

_To the one who haunts my dreams._

Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always 3

9\. A day after the battle is won, Ashe awakens from a dream as queen at last and wonders what comes after victory?

* * *

The garden was bright, even by Dalmascan standards. Ashe squinted into the brilliant sun, willing her eyes to focus on the roses and the silence. She could not remember why she had ventured out to the garden, only that she suddenly found herself sitting on her favorite marble bench, cooled by the shade of an olive tree.

Perhaps she had come for the tranquility, to escape the court pressures she faced as queen. Whatever the reason, she was glad she did, for the hushed quiet was a balm to her soul. She closed her eyes and leaned into the cool breeze whispering across her cheeks as the warm sun embraced her.

Ashe did not hear him approach, not even a crunch on the white gravel, but sensed his presence none the less. Balthier sat on the bench beside her, smiling that playful grin of his that promised mischief later.

Without a thought of who might see, Ashe slid to his side and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face into his broad chest. She breathed scent, spicy and heady as ever. "Must you leave?"

"Eventually," Balthier said, as he pulled her up with a light touch, finger under chin. "But I'll always be here for you."

Ashe smiled, and allowed him to kiss her deeply.

"I'll always wait for you," he said against her lips, sealing his promise with yet another.

Ashe could only smile as she leaned in him and accepted his words, her heart drunk on Balthier and his touch.

* * *

Ashe's eyes fluttered open, and slowly the world fell in place around her. The sun had just risen over the city, bathing it with soft hues of pastel, though her bed chamber was still shrouded in shadow. She did not move from where she lay on her side; she felt strangely empty and melancholy.

She lifted her eyes from the edge of bed, everything past her balcony coming into view, until she beheld the smoldering wreckage of the Bahamut.

No news yet, as she had instructed her servants to wake her should there be any. A heaviness settled over Ashe.

The morning after the battle. No one ever spoke of what comes after.

The night before, when the sun had set on the fires and each army counted their dead while the country celebrated, Ashe had returned to the palace in Rabanastre.

 _Her_ palace, she kept wearily reminding herself. As queen, at last returned.

She had finally laid down her arms, though kept a small dagger at her side out of habit, and as a comfort.

Basch-Judge Gabranth-was with the new Emperor of Arcades, Larsa (it seemed they had all assumed a new self or title, both bitterly won or reluctantly given), while Vaan and Penelo...with the Strahl, she assumed.

At the thought of the airship's owners, she remembered her dreams and the hollowness inside of her grew. It had felt so real and yet...she had awaken in a half cold bed, alone and her heart on the edge of a cliff, ready to tip over.

She remembered the night before, how she had stopped at a window where the ruins of Bahamut were framed like a painting of destruction. Black smoke billowed out of it in great columns and the sky was red from its flame which seemed everlasting.

Even from her palace, Ashe had felt the vehement heat surging from the wreckage, yet it was nothing compared to standing close, which she had done when the negotiations paused for the day, until her legs crumbled under her from exhaustion. She had allowed Bach to pull her away, to the palace, to rest at last.

Ashe thought of standing outside the king's chambers and their great gilt and opulent doors. She had stared blankly for a moment before drifting past them to find her old chambers. She could not sleep in the king's chambers-they belonged to her father, and most recently, Vayne. Just the outside of them felt defiled, and she knew it would be some time before the stain of Vayne's occupation faded for her.

She stared at the Bahamut. She was still dressed in her battle leathers. The night before, she had felt too numb after the day's-year's-events to indulge in the simple luxury of a night gown. Even now, tossing away the blood stained garments felt vulgar when so many were still lost.

But what now?

Her body and mind had been pushed to their limits, her heart fractured with what had been lost.

Had she really done it? Had she truly and completely won her country's freedom, and with her life intact?

But not everyone's life, she whispered in her mind, eyes boring in the Bahamut.

That crashing realization, coupled with the lingering impression of her dream, stunned her for a moment, and she felt tears welling in her eyes.

What comes the morning after, not when the battle is lost and restoration is a dream, but when it is won? How does one chase the ghosts of the dead away and begin with recovery? How does one carry on with life?

Perhaps one doesn't, Ashe thought, as she succumbed to her tears, and wept. At least night overnight.


	10. True Treasure

A few things: 1. Thank you, from the bottom of my romantic heart, for reading this story and reviewing. I started it to keep myself entertained during my free time at work and it's served that purpose well. I had so much fun writing it and these two characters. This chapter is bittersweet because 2. This is the end. I believe I've written everything I can about Ashe and Balthier after this tenth chapter. I have no interest in explaining Balthier's reasoning for disappearing (especially since he won't tell me himself) nor of their ridiculously happily ever after. And finally, 3. This chapter was inspired, in part, but the soundtrack of The Young Victoria and Walk the Moon's _Shut up and Dance_. Spot the references if you can.

Once more, thank you for reading and if you can spare a moment please, tell me what you think.

10\. In which Ashe discovers true treasure in the form of a returned ring and friends during her coronation festivities.

* * *

Ashelia B'nargain Dalamsca's coronation was a grand affair, with enough pomp and circumstance for even the Archadian Empire to take notice.

Every resident of Rabanastre, it seemed, lined the streets in celebration, cheering for their queen with a deafening roar. Ashe was resplendent in a fine cream colored gown, trimmed with glittering gold and purple.

As streamers fell from the sky, colorful and fluttering, Ashe thought it all reminiscent of another ceremony three years prior. She wore a similar gown, though at present no veil. Still, the crowds, the adoration she felt from them; the colors, music, parade through the city to the grand cathedral was all eerily similar.

The only true difference, veil aside, was the absence of a companion beside her. Ashe felt Rasler's ghost as easily as she heard each cheer, and he was sorely missed though not forgotten.

Ashe lifted her right hand and smiled down at the simple, unadorned silver ring resting on her slender finger. Her left hand was bare, though the ring that once rested there now hung around her neck. A reminder of the love she once had and filled her eyes but she blinked them away.

Love found, then lost, and now returned.

Against all odds, Rasler's ring had been returned to her. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Of course it had. What kind of leading man didn't return with smug triumph?

Ashe scanned the crowds, waving at times, hoping for a glimpse of white hair and tall ears, or a flippant smirk-anything of her returned friends, but of course he would not make it that easy for her.

Ashe was alight with nerves, not only for the coming ceremony, but also for the moment when he did choose to reveal himself. She was still deciding on her reaction: bursting into weeping tears, or setting Belias on him for staying hidden with no word. At present, she was favoring the later.

She watched the ring on her waving hand, its silver glinting in the sun.

Returned. Her kingdom returned, and now this. The others-Rasler, her father and brothers-were all branded upon her heart, but here was her golden chance to start anew, to rebuild and make better.

Ashe raised her head to the blue sky, streamers brushing her cheeks, sun warming her tan face, and smiled. When tears once again filled her eyes she closed them and let them fall. Through her tears and smile, she silently thanked the gods for all that had been returned to her.

* * *

When it was all over and her ascendance as queen had been signed and sealed into law, the crown placed upon her head?

Queen Ashelia napped.

In the days preceding the coronation, Ashe had been awash in a sea of preparations that seemed unending.

Everywhere she turned there seemed to be some servant in need of approval for this flower display, that menu choice, or that seating arrangement. There were dress fittings, wine tasting-and what of Dalmasca's heroes? Where should they be placed at the banquet?

Ashe's tired mind felt ready to combust with it all. And so, in the quiet hours between the coronation and banquet, Ashe stripped from her heavy gown, letting it pool in cream waves on her carpet, and climbed into bed, feeling decadent in the act of returning to the sheets before noon.

Her mind drifted off immediately, exhausted as it was. Just as she crossed the threshold of consciousness and peaceful sleep, there was a soft rattle at her balcony door and quiet footsteps.

She dreamt of a warm body lying beside her, soft hands brushing her hair, and a tenor voice whispering a congratulations to her. She smiled in her sleep.

* * *

Ashe watched the revelry from her throne, taking a moment for herself and her throbbing feet. She wore another gown, this one turquoise to bring out her blue eyes. It was far more comfortable than her coronation gown, showing a slice of her midriff and cut from a lighter cloth. It was meant for a celebration, which she and her friends indulged in wholeheartedly.

Larsa broke away from the dancing and approached her, ascending the dias on which her throne sat with a confidence that seemed too mature for the thirteen year old. But then, for a thirteen year old emperor, it was entirely necessary.

"Your majesty," Larsa bowed with a twinkle in his eyes, and a smile threatening to bloom on his lips. "May I have this dance?"

Ashe smiled and rose from her throne, taking Larsa's outstretched hand and allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

"Queenship suits you," Larsa said as the dance started.

"As opposed to living in the sewers as a rebel?" Ashe countered.

" _Resistance_ ," Larsa said, throwing her own line back at her with a solemnity that did not quite reach his eyes for they still sparkled with mirth.

Ashe laughed, a mellifluous sound that caused Larsa and those around her to smile in response. How wonderful it felt, basking in celebration and triumph; a complete treasure.

"I don't suppose you've heard from our resident sky pirate," Ashe said when her mind turned to thoughts of treasure and her returned ring.

"I haven't," Larsa replied, "though I have suspicions that perhaps you will shortly."

Ashe's eyes narrowed as she thought of the implications of that statement, and all the tricks Balthier undoubtedly kept up his well tailored sleeve.

"Where is he?" Ashe asked in a knowing voice, but Larsa merely smiled as he neatly and gracefully spun her.

Rather than come back into Larsa's arms, Ashe's right hand was instead grabbed by another, with the other circling her waist and pulling her close against a beautifully embroidered vest.

"Where is who," Balthier's smiling face asked her.

After a year thinking the man was dead, Ashe was surprised at the rush of joyous emotion that flooded her. She wanted to laugh, weep, smile, and yet she stood frozen on the spot as other dancers whirled around her. The spot where his hand held her bare waist felt hot and she seemed unable to focus on any other feeling. As for the sight she beheld...

Balthier looked more handsome than ever, with not a mark or blemish upon his face. His green eyes were locked on her, an earnestness that silently pleaded for approval and begged for forgiveness.

Ashe could not help the giggle that escaped her lips. "Of all the leading men to grace Dalmasca with their heroism you, Balthier Bunansa, are without a doubt the most infuriating."

Balthier's answering grin was relieved. "Charmed as always, I see."

The newly crowned queen of Dalmasca rolled her eyes but did not pull away. "Dance with me."

And so they did, Balthier taking the lead, their eyes locked as they spun slowly around the ballroom.

"You know," Ashe said quietly, "I'd expected the son of a lord of Archades to be well trained in the dancing arts. I believe you're holding back."

For Balthier's part...that wasn't entirely inaccurate, though he would sooner paint the Strahl a ghastly orange than admit he was holding back in any endeavor.

And yet, being in Ashe's presence, holding her, listening to her laugh after a year of absenting himself, Balthier could hardly remember why he would voluntarily do so. He had expected the full wrath of Hell be set upon him for his silence and entrance. As well as for the ring.

Instead he found a queen at peace with the world around her, a drastic change from the perennially tense and high strung princess of a year ago. This _queen_ before him left him in rapture with her dazzling smile, as well as her touch. And gods, his hand felt ablaze as it rested on her soft and bare waist. Distraction would be a good reason for his inattentiveness towards the dance.

In this moment, as he stared into her eyes, endured her flippant remarks, he had a sense that he was standing before destiny.

"If you're implying that I am in anyway lazy, Princess, that simply won't do." Balthier flashed a cheeky grin and tightened his hold on her hand and waist. "Now stop talking and dance with me."

Ashe laughed again and together, they finished their dance, and the next, and several more, until finally they stood stationary on the dance floor, breathing heavily in their finery as they continued to stare at each other. The music stopped and the sudden silence was like breaking glass for Ashe and she realized with a start where she was.

To her right, Vaan and Penelo had finished their own dance, with the former heading straight to the buffet table, and the latter left abandoned and rolling her eyes until Larsa approached and engaged her in conversation.

Further along, Basch stood in his brother's armor, ever solemn and alert, though his lips tipped up into a smile as his eyes caught hers. She returned it and a second later found Fran, her hair silver as the moon, standing with her haughty yet soft gaze as Al-Cid told a story at her, using wild gesticulations. The beautiful Viera caught Ashe's eye and nodded, grace and friendship exuding the action.

All of her friends, here, and in once place, returned to her.

Her eyes rested once more on Balthier and gods help her, she could not help the small leap her heart made. She longed to reach out for him, to finish what they had started so long ago in the metal corridors of the Strahl, yet his words from that stolen moment rushed back to her: _if I kiss you, I will not be able to stop_.

The flutter of promised pleasure from those remembered words nearly brought her to her knees.

Ashe took a breath. "I think I shall retire. I trust you know where your bed chambers are located?"

Balthier's eyes flashed at her veiled intent. "Found them this afternoon, though I was quite put out to discover someone already in the bed, _napping_."

Somehow, Ashe was not surprised to learn her dream was not, in fact, a dream.

* * *

Ashe only had to wait fifteen minutes before she heard a thump on her balcony, followed by a rattle at the glass doors. Balthier's lithe figure stepped through and he had all of five seconds before Ashe crossed her bedchamber and eagerly claimed his lips for her own. He groaned at the feel of her and the desire that spread through him like wild fire.

The intense hunger that roared through him had him grasping her shoulders and pulling her against him. He guided them both away from the balcony doors and Ashe melted against him, her own arms reaching up to hold him against her, moaning softly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seeking hers.

Gods how he had missed this-her taste, her softness and surety. And her; being in her presence, claimed by her.

The back of Ashe's knees hit the edge of her great bed and she broke away to sit, sinking into the plush mattress and blankets. Her hands reached up and pressed flat against the gold embroidery of his vest, feeling the utter solidness underneath. Half a second later, her slender fingers hooked onto his gold buttons and deftly unfastened one, and then another.

"Don't you want to know what I've been up to this past year?" His voice was thick with rising lust and despite his question, Bathier did nothing to stop Ashe, nor did he want to, as she slowly opened his vest and pushed it off his shoulders.

Ashe grabbed a fistful of his soft white shirt in each hand and pulled him on the bed. He slid a hand under her and grasped the small of her back and moved them further onto the bed, his other hand sliding neatly under her skirts and caressing her smooth leg; she drew a sharp intake of breath, the sound sweet and enticing.

"Later," Ashe promised with a wicked gleam in her eyes as she beheld Balthier in her bed, atop her, strength and sensuality melting off of him. Her eyes came back to his, dark from burning need, and then the curve of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and finally the bow of his lips.

How often did she crave this moment while a cheerful fire crackled next to them during a night watch? How often did she tell herself that it was impossible, that station and politics would separate them no matter her own desires?

How often did she dream of this moment, only to awaken and remember reality, remember the worst?

Her hand, gentler than before, carefully cupped his cheek, as if he might be glass. "Are you really here?"

"I can assure you, Ashelia, this is no dream." And he seized her lips once again.

Later, she would laugh, cry, and gasp in awe at the tale of his absence, but for now, as her court reveled in the ballroom below, Ashe basked in the miracle that was Balthier returned.

~End~


End file.
